The Resurrection of the Lord

The Mass of Easter Day

“On the first day of the week…”

A beginning disguised as an ending.

Mary Magdalene comes first.
The beloved disciple runs faster—arrives first.
Peter enters first.

And yet, curiously,
the one who arrives first
does not enter.

Why?

Was it reverence?
Was it deference to Peter’s primacy?
Or was it something far more human—

that he was not yet ready
to face what being first would require?

For to enter the empty tomb
is to leave behind
every familiar expectation.

Grandkids on a Resurrection Egg Hunt

A joyful thing—
twelve eggs,
each holding a small piece of the story.

From the Last Supper
to the empty tomb.

And yet, as the hunt unfolded,
something familiar emerged.

The race to be first.

Each child eager—understandably—
to find the next egg,
to read the next clue,
to arrive ahead of the others.

And even as we gently tried to slow things down,
the instinct remained:

Find it.
Open it.
Move on.

Do not linger.

And I saw, quite plainly,
myself.

For I, too, prefer to be first
first to arrive,
first to understand,
first to move on.

And when I reach something meaningful,
I am already searching
for what comes next.

Rarely do I remain
with what is before me.

The empty tomb, for instance—
if I had been there—

I suspect I would have glanced in,
registered the fact,
and begun planning the next step.

But the beloved disciple pauses.

He waits.

And when he enters,
he sees…
and believes.

Which suggests that belief
may require something I resist:

We race to conclusions,
to achievements,
to the next moment—

as though life were a competition
rather than a revelation.

But Easter proposes a different order.

The first day
is not about being ahead of others—
it is about being made new.

The beloved disciple arrives first
but waits.

Peter arrives second—
but enters first.

And somewhere between the two,
truth is revealed.

For the Kingdom of God
does not reward speed—
it rewards surrender.

And perhaps the greatest irony is this:

That the one who insists on being first
may miss the moment entirely—

You who make all things new
on this first day,

teach me how to remain.

When I rush ahead,
slow me down.

When I grasp for what is next,
turn my attention to what is now.

Give me the grace
to enter the tomb of my own expectations
and to find there—
not emptiness,
but You.

Let me not seek to be first in importance,
but first in wonder.

First in gratitude.
First in faith.

Laudato si’ §51

True renewal comes not from rushing forward alone,
but from walking together with patience and attentiveness.

Today, I will:

Communion is the Diocese of Amarillo’s Centennial pillar for April
  • Pause intentionally before moving to the next task.
  • Give my full attention to one moment, one person, one conversation.
  • Walk synodally—recognizing that faith is not a race, but a shared journey.

For communion is not only found in action—
but in shared silence.

A song of rediscovery—
capturing the wonder of experiencing something anew.
A reminder that Easter is not just the first time—
but the chance for everything
to feel like the first time again.
A story of reaching a place no one has gone before—
revealing that being first carries both weight and wonder.
A reminder that the greatest journeys
are not about arrival alone,
but about transformation.
I want to share the latest episode of The Introverted Apostle — a podcast that has helped me revisit my own journey and see things in a different light.
This episode features Deacon Tino Frausto and it hits close to home for anyone who has ever thought:
“This isn’t my ministry… or my personality.” 😅
Deacon Tino’s story is a powerful reminder that God doesn’t wait for us to feel ready — He simply invites us to say yes. From wanting to stay behind the scenes to proclaiming the Gospel, his journey shows how grace often begins just outside our comfort zone.
Need a clean slate? We’ve got mercy for that. 🙏 In this episode, we unpack Divine Mercy Sunday, the life and mission of Saint Faustina, and why God never stops inviting us back…no matter how far we think we’ve gone. It’s a powerful mix of real stories and practical faith. Whether you’re all in or still figuring things out, this conversation brings clarity, encouragement, and a reminder that grace always has the final word — and that confession isn’t something to fear…it’s a gift. Plot twist: God’s mercy is undefeated. 🏆
Kick off your day with 5 minutes of faith! Revised Standard Version (RSV) translation New Testament: • Luke 6:27-36 • Matthew 18:21 Old Testament: • Proverbs 25:21-22 Catechism of the Catholic Church: • Paragraph 1970 • Paragraph 2263 Takeaways: • Saint Jerome taught that responding to someone’s wrongdoing with kindness can soften their heart, burn away their anger, and lead them to repentance. • When someone annoys you…like cutting you off in traffic…try praying for them instead of reacting in anger. • If people insult or mistreat you because of your faith, stay faithful and hopeful. Jesus promises that your reward in heaven will be great.
My Story
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Memorial in the Grotto of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The inscription says:
In memory of the death of innocence of the victims of clergy sexual abuse. When innocence dies…a life stops. It is essential that we never forget.
I was one of “the few” Bishop Zurek spoke of in this letter. He first posted it in August of 2019, and in response to my, “calling out all the more“, he kept reposting it atop the diocesan news page until December 11, 2019. There it remains to this day.
Fr. Ed Graff, brought here from Philadelphia by Bishop Matthiesen, was arrested in 2002 for sexually assaulting a minor and died later that year in jail. Despite the harm linked to his ministry, he was buried in an honored section of Llano Cemetery among our pioneering clergy — a decision that continues to wound survivors and raise hard questions for our diocese.
A tribute to Bishop Matthiesen—now a complex symbol in our diocesan history, erected by former priest John Salazar, whose later abuse conviction reminds us how painful chapters of the Church’s past must be faced honestly as we seek healing and communion.

While we recognize your thoughtful suggestion for a renewed dialogue on Bishop Matthiesen, the present circumstances do not present an opportunity for it. I think it would foster division not dialogue. We remain confident in God’s providence and hopeful for what the future may bring.

from a letter dated March 5, 2026

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